


stories tend to come true

by tyomawrites



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites





	stories tend to come true

When you were a kid, your parents always told you to be nice to strangers if they came knocking on your door for help. Your mother often said some of em granted good luck. Your father always said that karma would come around and miss because you had done some good in your life. Your parents probably didn’t realize that one day, at the age of 23, you’d be running into a man on your door step, a bloody coin clenched between his teeth, the streetlights bouncing off the golden engravings. He groans as you step up to your front door, you glance over your shoulder, out to the night sky and the sound of approaching thunder and you sigh. You bound back down the steps and swing his arm over his shoulder, he’s fairly easy to pull up, not being as unconscious as you thought, but god was he tall. You struggle to endeavour him through your doorway, and since he towered over you, you had to avoid going directly down the centre of the hallway, eyeing the low hanging lamp. You kicked the door shut, glad you had a lock that would click when the door was slammed.

When you dump him on the couch and switch your lights on, he’s a little more than just got a coin in between his teeth. He’s a mess, blood is matted into his beard and hair, his shirts, torn, stained with grass and what you hoped was mud and not blood. His mouth parted slightly, the coin falling to his chest as he moved his head. You catch a glimpse of his teeth, they’re covered in blood too, stained and smeared. You go to the bathroom, lug out the first aid kit that your father dropped off when you first moved in, and a clean, red towel from the bathroom so you could avoid the blood staining anything else. You tuck on end of the towel under his head, using the other to wipe the blood from his face. You go an grab a bucket and fill it with warm water, always keeping an eye on the doorway. You come back, and he’s still leaning against the arm of the couch, his feet hang off it slightly. You dampen the cloth and start to wipe away the blood that’s already been drying to his skin for what’s been possibly hours.

When his face is clean you reach for the coin, ready to give it a scrub down when a strong hand grabs your arm, just before you can reach it. 

“And what do ya think yer doin’ lass?” He asks, his teeth is bared, still smeared with the slightest hint of red.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to steal it or nothing!” You yelp, trying to tug your hand away. “I was just helpin’ you out is all.”

He looks around, his grip still tight on your wrist. “Aight…” He murmurs. “Carry on.” He lays back down, his head now tilted towards you so you can see more of his face and he lets go of your wrist, allowing you to grab the coin. You turn it over in your fingers and stare at the markings, trying to understand what they mean.

“It’s my lucky coin, so don’cha go losin’ it somewhere.” He warns. You roll your eyes before wiping it with the damp towel, smiling at the shine, before putting it back onto his chest.

He gives you a grin and clenches onto the coin with his least battered hand. He smiles up at you and leans forward.

“What happened to you?” You ask curiously, normally you wouldn’t pry but now that he’s semi cleaned up, he looks hardly phased by what happened to him.

His lips turn to a smirk and he leans forward, he beckons you to come closer. You do, curiosity overwhelming your common sense.

“Bet ya didn’t think someone would fight a Leprechaun now would’ya lass?” He drawls in his accent. He rubs his face against the back of his hand before he stands, and at his full height, not slumped over your shoulder. He’s scarier than you thought, definitely taller than 6 foot. You give him a smile that he seems to take in good faith. “Name’s Sweeney, Mad Sweeney. Can I have yers darlin’?” 

Your nose scrunches at his name, but it doesn’t deter you as you hold out a clean hand. You told him your name. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, even if I did find ya on my doorstep.” He chuckles at that, and holds out his ‘lucky’ coin.

“Well, until my luck decides to be on my side, I guess you’re stuck with me.” He says.

When you were younger. You told your father and mother that the world wasn’t made of stories, well, who knew, your parents are always right. You gave the Leprechaun a side glance in the mirror as you washed your hands in the bathroom sink. Who would’ve thought that one day a thousand years old Leprechaun would show up at your door?


End file.
